An Alfalfa in a Snowy Hell
by DeathhunterAshi
Summary: All Vincent Divino wanted to do was to enjoy himself and enjoy himself from not having to work at a Convention and dealing with High School. It seems that his bad luck started to act up again as he's used as a Hellhound's chew toy and is thrown back to 2008 to right certain wrongs. He has to be resilient, like an Alfalfa! Starts five days after 3x16.
1. Crowley is a Douchebag

Ashi: Damn it, I had to start over! Freaking Tablet….

Aschlyn: Hey, you just forgot to sa-

Ashi: -Growls- Don't remind me! Ahem, anyway- looks like I've got my first Supernatural fanfiction! And Yes, I'm using another male OC. Why? Because there's too many OFCs in the Supernatural fanfic section! And I wanted an excuse to pull more chick-flick moments.

Aschlyn: In dedication of this, I will be handing the disclaimer reading over to Roland Dandara, who will be staring in "Time Does Strange Things", another SN fanfic.

Roland: -Coughs- DeathhunterAshi does not own Supernatural, nor does she own any obscure references to various video games, Vocaloid, or mentions of different things. Momo-Con is, in fact a real convention in Atlanta, GA and this fanfiction was inspired by DHA's experience, despite only being able to find one Supernatural cosplayer other than herself.

Ashi: Well….uh. Thanks. Let's get started then! As Valvatorez says, "Sardines!"

Aschlyn: Note, this takes place after 3x16 (No Rest for the Wicked) and four months and five days before 4x01 (Lazarus Rising).

* * *

_Alfalfa is a perennial forage legume which normally lives four to eight years, but can live more than 20 years, depending on variety and climate. The plant grows to a height of up to 1 m (3 ft), and has a deep root system, sometimes stretching more than 15 m (49 ft). This makes it very resilient, especially to droughts. Info from Wikipedia article on Alfalfas._

* * *

Tip on surviving in the world (2013) #1: _Don't talk to Mark Sheppard look-a-likes if they're dressed like Crowley._

Remind me not to talk to cosplayers in suits, especially when they look just like Mark Sheppard. I was taught not to talk to strangers, but being the hard-headed little fuck-tard I am, I accepted his want of taking a picture and answering two very simple questions. Ah, you want to know what happened, right? Well, it goes something or another like this.

You see, I like Supernatural; the series is good, I cried my freaking heart out when Ellen and Jo died and it took a lot of throwing my sanity against the walls of my mind to get me into watching the next seasons. So when Momo-Con came around in March, I took it upon myself to cosplay as Dean Winchester, even though I'm only about 5'10 and I refuse to cut my hair. If only I was a bit taller, than I might've dressed up as Sammy-er, Sam Winchester. Geeze, might as well call him Francis…

Aw, crap-I'm getting off track again writing in this journal, aren't I?

Right, after a rigorous karaoke of "Bad∞End∞Night" and running off the stage with an applause, I left to go back to the Visual Kei panel where my mom was at.

…..What? I can't go to the convention with my mom or something? She was the one who introduced me to the whole "Magical World of Anime, Manga and TV shows". That and I'm not even sixteen years old yet, so screw you otherwise.

So after telling her about my epic karaoke, I went to do the one thing every person in existence must do: use the John. As I walked out of the bathroom after my "relief", I gave a slight smirk; it was fun not having to run around the place trying to put videos on for the entertainment of others for once. That's what I liked about Momo-con; it was the one convention in which I didn't have to work if I didn't want to. So when did everything go to literal hell? When I saw that Crowley cosplayer.

No, no. Not the one from D . Gray-Man, that would've been awesome if I saw someone cosplay as the wimpy vampire. Instead, it was a bona-fied Mark Sheppard-looking guy. And if you're wondering, no-I didn't approach him. I was busy trying to stuff my honorary Link hat into my Herzing University book bag and check the time on my non speaker-functioning (but oddly still able to listen to music on) phone.

"_Hello there, would you care to pose for a simple picture? I can't help but notice your costume of Dean Winchester." _A British accent said from behind me and I turned around, raising an eyebrow and pointing at myself.

"….Me?" I asked with a dumfounded look on my face.

"If you see any other Dean cosplayers around besides the bloke standing in a leather jacket, of course I meant you." The Crowley cosplayer said and I was too freaking honored to mind that he pulled a better sarcasm quote out of his ass than I usually do.

Knowing my paranoia coming from my dad's side of the family, I probably should've followed my instincts that said not to trust the guy and I simply thought it was just from reading too many Creepypasta stories throughout the months while watching Supernatural in the dark. Meh, at least I know how to salt and burn a poltergeist should anything try to come at me, bro.

"Sure, I'd be glad to! Do ya mind if I could take one of you afterwards? Every single time I tried to ask a Castiel cosplayer for one, he….she….whatever would slip away before I had the chance to ask." I responded with an embarrassed grin on my face, wondering why I even revealed information like that.

"Of course, it wouldn't be a fair _deal_ if I didn't, right?" He said in that dubbed "Crowley voice" and I almost thought it really was the amazing actor I was talking to.

I nodded with that exactly stupid grin on my face before I went towards the 'closed for the convention' bar and pulled out that stupid journal that was grudgingly my favorite color that I was substituting for "John's Journal" and scowled before smirking. Now to other people, they'd probably think I was just some random guy who walked into the convention or for some strange reason Albert Wesker from Resident Evil, but that's to say. Meh, I'm just that random black guy who knows all and laughs insanely, or that could be from trying to impersonate the Medic from Team Fortress 2.

Oh right, getting off topic again. Anyway, after he took his picture(s), I waved him over to the spot where I stood before and took two pictures of him. It was then that I probably should have ran, 'cause shit was just about to hit the fan.

"Tell me, do you believe in the Supernatural? And I mean in the literal sense." The Crowley cosplayer asked and I raised an eyebrow again and tilted my head in confusion.

Well yeah, I do believe in it most of the time, but I usually think that's from paranoia after walking home during the dark and from my own beliefs….

"I'm sorry, you look confused. I meant what would you change in the show if you were there?" He said, though he now had a hint of irritance to his voice.

"H-Huh? You mean like a self-insert and such? Well, I'd probably rather start around the end of season 3 so that I could help Sam with dealing with what happened and stop that bitch Ruby from making Sammy-er, Sam drink demon juice." I responded, closing my eyes in slight frustration as I grudgingly remember the….sex scene with Sam and Ruby and slumped visually. Hell, I would probably punch the guy into the wall just from dealing with a demon!

"Let's see…..what if you were to take Dean's place after he was made into a Hellhound's chew toy?" He asked again and my eyes snapped open.

Take…..Dean's…..PLACE?! Hell no, no one could take Dean Winchester's place with a willing smile and even if they could, it just wouldn't be the same!

"I don't think I'd want to take Dean's place, willing or not. That, and I don't want to run into hellhounds after that close call when I was younger." I said with a hesitant laugh from not only feeling nervous, but also from thinking about the possibly rabid female pit-bull from when I was eight.

"Well, would you look at the time? I gotta hurry up and get back before my mom starts to go searching for me! Thanks for the pictures!" I responded after a while and did the one thing everyone says not to in every situation, turn my back.

"Well then, what if I said that becoming a replacement was nonnegotiable?" I heard him say and I quickly picked up my book-bag and leather jacket, getting ready to walk away before I heard several growls come from behind.

"Sic him, girls." The Crowley cosplayer said and my eyes widened.

Before I could even yell out anything, an invisible force slammed into the small of my back and forcibly throws me to the ground. I managed to pull a pained shout out of my throat when I felt sharp claws rip down my back, the soft fabric of both my button up and T-shirt not slowing it down at all. I could smell its acrid breath from down here and everything fucking **BURNED. **My hands still held stubbornly onto my items and I just wanted to let them go, but I couldn't and god damn it, stop the fucking pain!

"You….You've got to be kidding me. All I do is go to the bathroom and I get cornered by a punk-ass Crossroads Demon….so not cool…This is the biggest fourth wall breaking I've ever been included in…" I said hoarsely, coughing out blood as the hellhound snarled and pushed its claws into the small of my back, making more blood gush out.

"Nah ah ah, was that punk-ass Crossroads Demon. If you were watching properly, then you would know that I'm the King of Hell now. I'll be nice for once and yet you help dear ol' Sammy, Vincent. Of course with that mouth, you're more like Dean than anything else." The Crowley-no, freaking Crowley himself said and I felt like something was dragging me through an extremely thin tube that humans should not be able to fit through.

The next thing I knew, I was harshly thrown on the ground landing on my back and the pain made me see stars from a moment. Ahh….damn it, so that's how it feels to be slashed up by Hellhound?

"Ah…..fuck, it hurts…" I managed to mumble out as the black spots in my vision began to darken and the pain made everything hypersensitive.

Before I passed out, I could've swore I heard someone yell as they want up to me and grabbed my wrist that was still holding the leather jacket….

* * *

Hmm, what will happen to Vincent now? I made a guess on the timelines from when Dean was killed and Momo-Con before, but when it's a time-skip or something-it'll look like this: "_5/16/2008 (~) 3/9/2013" there was meant to be a_ greater than symbol means that Vincent has crossed over to another timeline or a certain amount of time has passed.

Well, that's all I have to say for now, this is DeathhunterAshi, signing out! Ja ku ne!


	2. Waking up Hurts

Ashi: -Yawns- Geeze, I think I might be growing again….

Aschlyn: What does that have to do with the next chapter at all? No really, what?

Ashi: Nothing….it just explains why I've been so tired lately. Well, besides that- Roland?

Roland: Since Vincent is still unconscious until the start of this chapter, Castiel will be saying the disclaimer.

Ashi: Wha- no, he doesn't come in for a while! Don't let him-

Castiel: Supernatural does not belong to Danielle, nor does she own any references she may make in this fanfiction.

Ashi: Damn it Cas, don't say my real name out loud! Just enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

5/16/2008 ← 3/9/2013

Tip on Surviving the world #2 (2008):  
Stay silent and observe your surroundings; this helps especially if you've been captured and/or incapacitated in a bed.

* * *

Not good, everything hurts, a freaking lot.

My back burned, my throat felt raw and my stomach felt like I went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. I shifted and groaned again when I heard two people talking and I tried not to visibly tense. Who were they? Where they going to finish the job or something? No….what would be the reasoning to do that if they have me in a badly springed bed and a scratchy blanket? Whatever it is, I rather take it while I'm awake.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw the ceiling, which looked like it was cracking a bit. That, and everything was extremely bright and that bothered me a lot. Yeah….turn off those damn lights.

_"Hey kid, you hangin' in there?"_ I heard someone ask as I tried to push myself up, only to groan in pain again.

"I'd...prefer if it wasn't...so damn bright..." I mumbled and clenched my teeth so that I wouldn't cry out in pain. **AGAIN**.

The person obliged and I looked up in surprise when I reconised the old grizzled hunter, Bobby Singer standing right above me. H-Holy hiphuggers Batman, this wasn't a vivid dream at all!

"Aw son of a-" I growled out as I flopped back onto the bed on my back, which I deeply regretted when a deep shock of pain shot of my stomach and through my back.

"Looks like you've finally decided to join the world of the living again, kid. You look like you went several rounds with a wendigo before a hellhound sliced your back into swiss cheese." Bobby said and I groaned again.

A unintententional Bleach refrence along with telling me about a flesh-eating monster proves how much irony works. My choice of words- "Fuck, it makes me feel like shit!" I yelled horasely into the musky smelling pillow and coughed violently as well.

"Good to know; you were worse five days ago." Bobby responded and my head shot up from the pillow.

"Five days ago?! It couldn't had bee-!" I started before gasping for air and coughing again.

"I said you WERE worse five days ago. Don't ruin all that hard work just to relapse, idijt." He said and I laid there silently with a dumbfounded look on my face. Hearing him say it like that make you feel akaward...

"Anyway, what the hell were you doin' bleeding out in the street, especially seeing as how you didn't show any signs of demonic possession, Vincent Divino?" Bobby continued and I looked at him in surprise.

How did he know my- oh he's holding my vintage orange wallet that's why.

"That's what I'd like to know. Getting slashed by a murderous dog while dressed as Albert Wesker doesn't make things feel better. He's from a video game if you want to know." I responded with a scowl on my face. Don't want to be confused for a shapeshifter- oh for binks sake, I'm a nerd!

After I said that, the door opened and closed and I looked up again to see Sam Winchester. I would've made a crack about his height if he didn't have that misreable puppy-dog eyed look on his face. It's been five days since Dean died, huh? Guess for him, it only feels like yesterday.

_"...Are you okay?"_ Sam asked softly and I flinched at the brokenness of how he sounded.

Call me a damn wimp, but I have angrocousticphobia- the fear of being yelled out in a negative way I guess. Angro as you know is short for anger, and acoustic is short for sounds. I realized this when my parents divorced almost nine years ago. Pretty much, if someone starts yelling, I rather use my fists at that point.

"Yeah...uh, yeah. I'm fine." I said somewhat huskily and looked away; though feeling Sam's eyes on me. "You...uh looks like you haven't slept for a while." I finished and tensed to grab the pillow in order to cover my ears.

"The kid's right, you should probably get some rest before ya pass out." Bobby said and Sam shook his head tiredly. He was too damn stubborn to take the guy's advice.

"Uh...hey. If its not too much trouble, could you tell me what year it is?...and please get me a glass of water?" I asked while looking at the two hunters.

"It's 2008, why do you ask?" He responded and helped me up to lean on my right side.

"Wait, what? No no no, this can't be right. I did not just get thrown five years into the past just because some punk-ass crossroads demon who thinks he's the king of hell wants to have his fun with me. No, he's probably just screwing with my mind and I fell asleep on the toilet while my mom waits for me in a event room..." I mumbled as my eyes widened and began to feel lightheaded.

"Kid? Hey, Vincent, snap out of it! Vincent!" I heard someone call out for me as my body shook and I snapped back into...reality.

"This...is the biggest amount of bullshit...THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME!" I yelled out in pure, unadulterated anger. Taking the Falful's minion's quote, "I. have **FURY**."

"Calm down you idijt! Getting mad about it isn't going to get you anywhere! Now what's this about a crossroads demon and time travelling?" Bobby growled out and then asked.

I completated telling him everything, but like it was mentioned before- its only been five days and I don't want a bullet put through my head. I told him everything except for mentioning Sam, Dean, and Ruby in the sentence and the whole changing history thing. Pretty much, I told him about the cosplay, the questions, and the hellhounds.

"Wait, besides that- you never even told me your names. While I like it when my kidneys aren't spilling out of my body, I don't like being in the presence of strangers. And why take me here instead of dropping me off at the hospital?" I asked with semi-confusion. I knew who they are, but I said before, don't want to be shot or stabbed.

"Bobby Singer. The main reason would be explaining how a kid your age would be walking around with medical information that belongs to the same Vincent Divino; especially when the kid is supposed to be eleven living in Lithonia, Georgia instead of fifteen year old dressed like he belongs in a biker gang." Bobby said and I blinked slowly.

"Alonss-y then..." I mumbled and looked to the side. And hey, I don't look like I belong in a biker gang!

_"Bobby...I-Its time to..."_ Sam started before choking up slightly. _"...I'll go wait in the car..."_ He finished with his shoulders slumped and closed the door.

I looked at his retreating back with slight shock, but never pity. It would be an insult to pity someone. Bobby stood silently at my side before sighing in defeat and mumbling something under his breath with a undertone of sorrow to it.

"Sam and I have something...personal to take care of. Don't move too much or you'll jar your rounds. We'll be back in a while." He finally said after a while and I nodded.

"...Alright." I said and Bobby left a bottle of water by the bedside and checked the salt lines before leaving and locking the door.

They must be going to bury Dean...that look on Sam's face still haunted my thoughts and I shifted in the bed, hissing slightly in pain. So, just what the hell am I going to do now that I'm here? It was then that I remembered what I said to Crowley; I would prevent Sam from slipping so far that he would kill Lilith by using his powers.

"Yeah, that's if they trust me with the whole _'stab, stab, stab'_ things..." I mumbled and reached over slowly to grab the bottle of water, untwisted the cap and remedying my parched throat.

For now, I better just catch some sleep for now...and in a few moments, I was asleep.

* * *

Urgh, I finally finished chapter 2 and season 7 of Supernatural! ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Sorry for freaking out, I can't find season 8 at all, but beware for chapter 3 for AAiaSH- for it has a lot of gore. Anyway, this is DHAshi, ja ku ne!


	3. Nightmares Hurt Even More

Ashi: -Looks lovingly over at the Hello Kitty Radio- I love you so much right now….

Aschlyn: -Sweatdrop- Sorry, she gets like this when the radio plays her favorite songs.

Ashi: Where's your crown, king nothing~!

Vincent: Their playing Metallica? No freaking wonder! –Sits down to listen-

Aschlyn: -Facepalm- Roland, could you do the disclaimer?

Roland: -Monotone- DeathhunterAshi does not own Supernatural, but she does own Vincent and a vintage orange wallet.

Ashi: -Song ends- Oh yeah, if I did own Supernatural, Season 4 would be better. It just felt lazy despite Dean coming back for the dead and introducing Castiel. And Ruby. FUCKING RUBY. Sigh, NWFTW, huh?

Roland: Oh right, the italics in this chapter, well- you'll find out. Also this chapter has both graphic and disturbing images that are not for the faint of heart. Viewer discursion is advised.

* * *

Tip on Surviving the World #3 (2008):

If you are injured and you just woke up from a nightmare, don't take two pills of Ibuprofen and then take a piss. Just don't.

* * *

_When I opened my eyes, I tried not to yell in pain as the feeling of being pulled by not only the arms, but my legs felt like they were being ripped apart with just the motion! No…no, where the hell am I?! I looked around in confusion and gasped fearfully, screaming when I saw the hooks tearing at my flesh and hearing the cackling in the background._

_No, no- oh god no! Why am I here?! What did I do wrong?! Why are they torturing me like this, I didn't do anything at all!_

"_H-Help…why am I here? Let me go!" __I screamed out in pain again as something thrust a knife into my stomach, pulling it out and bringing it slowly up; slicing into the skin._

"_**We're never had somebody like you down here, boy. Seems like SOMEBODY likes you enough to make you into a play toy for us!" **__A…A demon said with his…her…its...silky voice as it curved the knife in a circle and slid it down again, pulling a jagged circle of skin from my abdominal area. _

_The pain felt even worse than when the hellhounds tore into my body, killing me instantly-god, make it stop! Please, just kill me again! When I heard the soft thud of something falling onto the ground (?), I hesitantly looked down and started screaming again. When did I stop screaming before?_

_Sitting innocently on the ground in front of the demon's feel was my pulsating intestines and liver. My stomach that was stabbed into before was gushing out both blood and acid; the acid slid down my pants in a steady river and my shouts of pain picked up in pitch as the so-called weak acid burned through the blistering skin on my thighs and began to eat through my shaft. I eventually lowered down to a whimper as the demon began to chuckle lightly and he/she/it pulled out another knife that looked like it could slit someone's neck in less than a second. _

"_**Don't tell me you're done already? We're just getting the party started! Now…let's continue, Vincent…" **__It said and my eyes widened while it stepped on the discarded liver._

"_Vincent…Vincent…_VINCENT!" Someone yelled out as I snapped awake and let out an ear-piercing shriek that someone with a vibrato and gender like mine shouldn't have accomplished.

I tried to move away, but large hands held me down and I began to panic when a sharp pain flared in my back and everything came back into focus.

"Wha-what? It was all just a dream…? What the hell?" I mumbled hoarsely and looked up at the person who helped me, seeing Sam instead of Bobby.

"Are you okay? You just started to convulse and scream when we got back in five hours ago." Sam responded and looked both concern and slightly surprised.

The nightmare was still fresh in my mind as I shook my head at him.

"I'm…fine. It was probably just a really vivid dream or something." Yeah, I hope so; it felt even worse than any injuries I had received through the years.

I looked away from Sam when I was finally able to sit up and my hair covered my eyes. Unlike Sam or Dean, I didn't have that strong of a mental wall when it came to people looking straight though me, much as I loathe to admit it.

"Look, we may have gotten off on wrong terms earlier, but I need to dress your wounds." Sam said and I looked at him with substantial confusion on my face.

Unless he's talking about the cold shoulder he gave me while talking to Bobby, then I have no idea what the hell he's talking about. There's nothing valid to apologize about, seeing as how I hadn't paid much attention to him in the first place.

"Sure, I don't really mind." I responded absentmindedly as he helped me take off my T-shirt, which I scowled at when noticing that it was that vintage Master of Puppets shirt I got two months before the convention was ripped and covered in blood. Screw what everyone says if it smells like blood, I'm going to keep that damn shirt.

Slowly, Sam peeled the bloodied gauze from around my upper and lower torso and I looked down, not so surprised to see so many bruises around my stomach. Man, I can only imagine how my back looks right now. At that, Sam poured something on my back and I had to grit my teeth just so I wouldn't shout out in pain.

"What the hell was that?! It felt like hydrogen peroxide mixed together with borax!" I managed to growl out as he started to dab the blood from the sutures that held the skin together.

"It's salt water with holy water used as the base. It's to make sure there was no…lasting damage from the hellhounds that cut your back open. He responded with a monotone, reminding me of when watching season six.

"Sohn von eine weibchen, es tut so weh!" I groaned and winced lightly when he slapped some gauze pads on and began wrapping my torso back up again.

After he finished his ministrations, my stomach for some reason growled and I shook my head before slipping my shirt back on.

"I'm hungry. _How the hell am I hungry after seeing that?" _I stated, thinking the last part. I went to get out of the lumpy bed to grab my boots, but Sam stopped me.

"I'll go; you shouldn't be up walking around." He said and I sighed.

"Sam, I'm injured, not an invalid. I want to go." I shot back with no real heat and he looked down. For some reason, that single action was enough to make me feel guilty. With a bit of sucking my pride in, I restated what I was going to say and got back in bed.

"…Fine, I'll stay." I said with a stubborn scowl on my face and he nodded, slightly relieved and left out the door. Now that both Sam and Bobby left, I noticed the dingy motel room.

It had two queen-sized beds and a TV that for some strange reason made me feel nostalgic. The table was meh and the wall paper was a cartoon snake with different patterns. Eh, classy. When I looked around some more, I noticed that he forgot to salt the windows and door, but there was a Magnum Desert Eagle 1911 G Model under the pillow. Damn, that's one of my favorite weapons next to the classic Sniper Rifle. Other than that, Sam was already growing lax or simply didn't care.

Sighing, I slowly swung my legs off the bed and waited for a few minutes before deciding to stand up.

"Ah cra-!" I nearly shouted, but clenched my teeth tightly again and tried to breathe through the pain shooting up my back. He forgot the painkillers as well!

Okay…okay, painkillers first, then I'll go to the bathroom. Shaking my head through the painful haze, I shuffled over to the medi-pac- I mean first aid kid and pulled out a bottle of Ibuprofen, dry-swallowing two pills. When I was up, I grabbed the canister of salt and dealt with the doors and windows before hobbling over to the bathroom.

When I got there, I closed the door to a crack and lowered myself onto the toilet since I doubt that I would be able to stand up long enough to take a piss. Just why the hell did Crowley throw me here? Couldn't he just find some random emo chick or insane fangirl instead? No, he had to choose the only black guy who happened to be cosplaying as Dean Freakin' Winchester in a Saturday and likes Metallica! What the damn hell!

"Why does all the shit happen to me? Just…why? Do they get a kick out of it? They probably fucking do." I mumbled and shook my head, groaning lightly when that wave came back with a vengeance. Okay...I should probably stop feeling sorry for myself before I grow a pair of knockers and fall asleep on the John.

In my haste, I tripped over a wet towel and stumbled before sliding and hitting the back of my head on the bathtub. The last thing I remember saying was "Fuck." when I finally blacked out.

* * *

_God…everything still hurt…I could still hear myself screaming in fear, pain, agony as a new, but older demon taunted and tenderly sliced at the muscles around my temples, talking the whole time. It didn't take a scholar to realize I was in hell; the hundreds of souls and demons hinted at it. Shit…why did this demon have a German accent?_

"_Sohn von eine-!" __I cursed around my screams as it gouged out one eyeball and then began to repeatedly stab the other one. It did not help that I couldn't "die" here either._

"_**Armen Klein amerikanisch Schaum, du sollst hast bliebst weg und aussehen wo dazu dich?' **__It said in a mocking voice while moving to cut along my face. Yep, it was definitely German. _

_This one had disemboweled me from the start, but decided to cut the skin on my hands and shoved what fingers it cut off into my mouth. Why the hell am I so calm about this? The last torture session I was in broke me down in less than an hour. _

_No… in hell, only a week has past. It must've already been another month at this rate now. Maybe a year? _

_I yelled in pain this time, the knife he left in my stomach was removed along with my amputated fingers so I wasn't choking on them anymore. Instead, it began to stitch my ragged skin up with precision as if it was planning to do something. I began to worry when the demon whistled an old German tune while stitching up my mouth, leaving it in an "O" position. Urgh, didn't even have the chance to start screaming again when it poured both borax and sulfuric acid into the opening. _

_I choked and gargled on my own blood as my body twitched entirely in pain; For once in my meaningless existence here was I glad that it completely destroyed my eyes until the demon splashed the acid in my face. The bubbling, searing pain was all I felt before I woke up again._

"Vincent! Wake up!" I blinked tiredly as my consciousness began to come back and I winced at the pounded in my head. God…why do I feel like someone slammed my head into the asphalt?

"What…the hell happened? Did I get hit with a baseball bat and then pushed in front of a truck? It sure as hell feels like it." I groaned out before attempting to get up, but Sam stopped me. When did he get back?

"Why were you walking around? You slipped and may have a concussion and I found you bleeding on the damn bathroom floor!" He yelled and I winced before scowling at him.

"Why the hell are you yelling at me? I didn't leave a towel on the floor in a blind spot! And frankly enough, I had to take a piss and some pills before realizing that the room wasn't even protected!" I yelled back, glaring at him darkly. There was no way in hell he was going to put the blame on me for something he forgot!

Sam flinched back at my response and for once, I didn't feel sorry or anything. Yeah, I get that Dean died almost close to a week ago and I'm truly sorry, but that's no reason to fucking snap at me!

"I may be thankful that you saved me for becoming hellhound chow, but I don't need someone's hand to guide me to the bathroom." I said calmly, but my tense body was still radiating anger.

When I looked back up, not even knowing when it was down- Sam had a deer in headlights look on his face and…was he crying? He sucked in a breath and looked down himself, his long hair hiding the tears trailing down. Crap, I didn't mean to do that…

'_Geeze, this guy acts so much like Lucas, it's not even funny' _I thought and sat still for a moment. I have an annoying little brother and Dean has an annoying little brother. If that's not Murphy's Law in place, then I don't know what is.

With another irritated sigh, I lifted up my right arm and pulled Sam into a hug, patting his back like when I made my little brother cry as well.

"Look, I might have gone a bit over the top, but I'm in pain, alien territory and hungry. That and I can't blame you, I just now remembered my own little brother and how he might be feeling about me missing." I said, mumbling the last part. I sat still when I felt those same tears I caused wetting my already ripped and bloody T-shirt.

After what felt like an hour passed, Sam finally pulled away from me and my back ached when he…hugged back tightly. Ugh, at least I didn't cry out in pain or anything to ruin the moment. "Are you okay now?"

"…Yeah, thanks a lot for that." He said hoarsely and nodded lightly, looking slightly worse for the wear.

"Alright then, now can we stop this little moment of ours? I'm starving!" I responded and on cue, my stomach growled.

Sam cracked a small smile that looked more like a grimace and went towards the table after getting up from the bed. I leaned forward again and glanced over at an absent corner and narrowed my eyes.

Okay Crowley, I'll play your little game. Don't be surprised if I beat you at it.

* * *

In a mansion that looked more like a castle than anything else, a smug demon with a smirk on his face leaned back in his chair. He snapped his vessel's fingers, ordering a bottle of wine.

"So you will this time around? I look forward to seeing what you chance, Vincent." The King of the Crossroads, Crowley said and sipped the wine from his already filled glass.

* * *

Hmm, why does Crowley seem like he knows Vincent from somewhere before? It's mind-boggling, isn't it? Well, in the next chapter, there will be a time-skip and I hoped you enjoyed the torture scenes and hurt!Vincent. That chick-flick moment felt kind lack-luster from what I normally write though…Anyway, I'll see you guys later, ja ku ne!

German to English Translations:

"Sohn von eine weibchen, es tut so weh!" – Son of a bitch, it hurts so much!

"Armen Klein amerikanisch Schaum, du sollst hast bliebst weg und aussehen wo dazu dich?" – Poor little American scum, you should've stayed away and look where it got you?


End file.
